


Longing

by Mierin



Series: Nodus Tollens [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky needs some love, Civil war fix-it of sorts, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierin/pseuds/Mierin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t like this,” the words come out no louder than a whisper, and the look in Bucky’s eyes as he stops his pacing and turns to face you tells you that he feels the same.  Just as the firm set of his jaw makes it clear that he is going to go through with this.. this madness, anyway.</p><p>“You don’t have to do it yourself,” he says finally, still holding your gaze, trying to smile despite the sadness that is drowning out the hope in his eyes, “___, one of the doctors can-”</p><p>“No!” you exclaim, cutting him off before he can get any further, “if you insist on going through with this, then I insist on being the one to say the words.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing

Bucky is pacing the length of the empty corridor as the pair of you wait- he is restless, constantly flexing the fingers of the new cybernetic arm that had been implanted only days ago.

It’s been barely a week since your lover had been awakened because T’challa’s team of doctors had believed that they’d found a cure, a way to rip out the programming in his head.

And today, you’re going to be running one final test to see if it worked.

Needless to say, you’re nervous too, edging towards full-blown panic in fact. You deal with it by staying completely still, focusing on the coolness of the wall at your back as you alternate between following Bucky’s movements with your eyes and glancing at the shut door opposite you.

But no matter how hard you stare at it, it doesn’t open, and finally you give up, unable to restrain yourself any longer.

“I don’t like this,” the words come out no louder than a whisper, and the look in Bucky’s eyes as he stops his pacing and turns to face you tells you that he feels the same.  Just as the firm set of his jaw makes it clear that he is going to go through with this.. this madness, anyway.

“You don’t have to do it yourself,” he says finally, still holding your gaze, trying to smile despite the sadness that is drowning out the hope in his eyes, “___, one of the doctors can-”

He’s just as scared as you are, you know that much, and that, more than anything else, is the reason he wants you to do it. Because if the doctors are wrong about their cure, and something goes wrong, if he does end up brainwashed again, he wants you to be the one in control.

You can’t refuse him that even if the very notion of it is enough to make you want to scream and run.

“No!” you exclaim, cutting him off before he can get any further, “if you insist on going through with this, then I insist on being the one to say the words.”

Relief floods his gray-blue eyes, turning them soft as they rest on you still, and with a few quick steps he’s standing in front of you. He’s close enough that his breath fans warm across your face as he takes your hands in his and brings them up to rest against his chest, against his heart beating ever so fast.

“Thank you,” he whispers fervently, dipping his head to press a kiss to your hands curled in his. Time seems to stand still as he slowly brushes his lips over your knuckles, and you barely manage to blink back the tears welling up in your eyes.

 “___, if this all goes wrong,” he begins, looking back up at you as he speaks urgently, “you have to…”

He trails off at the sound of the door opening and you shift your gaze to find that it’s T’challa himself. You’re only a little bit surprised to see him, because after everything he’s already done for Bucky, of course he will be here for you both today.

“They’re ready,” he tells you.

Bucky only nods in acknowledgement, barely glancing at the man who has fast become a friend to you both. And when your lover’s eyes remain fixed on you, making no move to let go, the king ducks back inside, giving you one more minute of privacy.

“___, whatever happens, I just need you to know…” he trails off again, voice suddenly thick with tears.

“I know,” you tell him, slowly slipping your hands from his to cup his face instead, your fingers tracing restlessly over his cheekbones, “I know, darling.”

His hands come to rest on your hips as he sucks in a deep breath and rests his forehead against yours. His eyes dance over your features as if he is trying to burn them into his memory, burn them so deep that even if this fails, he will remember you.

“It’ll be fine,” you murmur with a confidence you don’t feel, and the space between you shrinks to nothing as he lowers his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss that nonetheless doesn’t lack for passion.

And all too soon, he is dropping his hands and stepping away and you follow him into the room with your heart in your throat.

Before you know it, they’ve run all the preliminary checks they need and Bucky is sitting in the chair in the middle of the room and they’re all waiting on you.

So you clear your throat and step up, ignoring the list that one of the guards proffers to you. After all, those infernal words are seared into your brain now.

“желание.” _longing_

Your voice trembles over even that one word, and you pause, searching your lover’s face for some kind of reassurance. He looks as tense as you feel, his jaw clenched, hands fisted on the armrests.

But even through his fear he manages the semblance of a nod, pushing you to continue.

You shift your gaze, fixing it on a nondescript spot on the wall behind him, because you’re sure that looking into his eyes again will only shake your resolve.

The next six words come out in a rush, tumbling over one another, weighing you down.

“ржаветь. семнадцать. рассвет. печь. Девять. добросердечный .”  _rusted. seventeen. daybreak. furnace. nine. benign._

You stop and draw in a shaky breath. Your heart is pounding so fast, so loud, that you’re certain everyone in the room can hear its beat. But you force yourself to swallow past the rapidly building lump in your throat and continue.

“возвращение на родину.”  _homecoming._

You’re itching to reach out and touch him, to take his hand in yours. Take his hand and pull him up and run far, far away from here.

“один.” _one._

The tears slide down your cheeks even as the word rolls off your tongue but you grit your teeth and clench your fists and look back at Bucky as you say the last of the words.

Nothing will happen, you tell yourself, he’s fine, these words have no power over him anymore.

“грузовой вагон.” _freight car._

He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, only stares at you with stormy eyes as he has been doing all through this ordeal. One minute passes in silence, and then another, and then you can’t take it anymore. You let out your breath in a long, whooshing gasp, and take one step closer to him.

The people lining the walls are muttering among themselves and out of the corner of your eyes, you see one of the guards starts towards you, as if to restrain you, but he is held back by T’challa himself.  So you take another step and pull yourself together.

“Bucky?” you ask, voice soft, trembling, almost inaudible.

A smile breaks out on his face, slow and warm and beautiful as the sunrise. And immediately, your surroundings melt away until he’s all that’s left in focus.

“Still me, doll,” he says, and before you know it, he’s on his feet and closing the gap between you to pull you into his arms and hold you close.

You press closer still, your hands encircling his waist, your head resting heavy against his chest.

He is shaking, you realize, tremors coursing through his body as he clutches you close, and you tighten your grip on him until they pass. And then he presses a kiss to the top of your head before burying his head in your hair.

“It worked,” he breathes, words almost muffled, “it actually worked.”

You pull back a bit, just enough to be able to look at him, and he meets your gaze with eyes that speak of his love for you and nothing else.

“I love you,” he says, and he sounds as if that’s the only thing that matters in the world, as if _you’re_ all that matters.

“I love you too,” you reply, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and deep and fervent, without a care in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather pleased with the way this fic turned out, especially because of the ending. :)  
> Bucky deserves a happy ending after everything that's happened.  
> I'm sorry if any of the Russian words are inaccurate, please feel free to correct me.


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